Twenty Questions
by LouiseKurylo
Summary: AU: Lisbon and Jane share opinions and perspectives on colleagues and situations where each much answer truthfully. AU: This is set after the season 4 finale, The Crimson Hat. Red John is dead as is Lorelei.


**Twenty Questions**

**Who:** Jane, Lisbon

**What:** Lisbon and Jane learn each others' perspectives by playing "20 Questions," where each must answer truthfully

**When:** After demise of Red John

**Where:** Jane's apartment

**Why:** Chance to compare differing perspectives and interesting insights

* * *

**AU: Lisbon and Jane share perspectives on colleagues and situations. They play "20 Questions" in which each must answer truthfully. This is set sometime after Red John's demise, after Jane's six months in Las Vegas.**

* * *

Lisbon woke Saturday morning and stretched out her arm only to find Jane wasn't beside her. They now spent most weekends together, usually at his place. She was still adjusting to his very different sleep needs. Lisbon needed seven or eight hours, Jane, only four-to-six. He often stayed up late and rose before her. She showered and dressed, then padded barefoot to the kitchen for coffee, toast and yogurt.

"'Morning, Lisbon," Jane called out absently, lying on the sofa absorbed in a book. He was well into his morning. She could tell he'd had eggs by the faint cooking smells. His cup of tea was nearly finished and he was dressed-polo shirt and shorts.

Bringing her coffee with her, she sat down next to him. "'Morning, Jane. What are you reading?" He set the book aside to give her a hug and kiss.

"About visual perception. Basically, your brain assembles vision from several parts. Specific, different regions of the brain handle faces, stationary objects, moving objects, and background. If you lose part of your field of vision–say, from a stroke–your brain fills in the background even if you can't see something in the foreground. You perceive a complete picture, even if your brain has to make part of it up. Surprising, no? There are short-cuts in visual processing, links to statistical theory. Neurological research used to rely heavily on working with people who suffered brain injuries. MRI's and other imaging tools have revolutionized the field. Interesting."

"You're right. Surprising. I don't see how I'll use that information anytime soon..."

He shrugged. "Parts of the book illuminate why various con artist tricks work. It adds to my general knowledge. I'm surprised how often I need information that I never would have expected to be useful."

"Do you have the cart before the horse? Maybe you don't 'need' the information, but‑‑because it's available-you make use of it. You have a problem to solve. You could solve it with cruder tools. But since you have a larger selection, you use the more-precise tool."

"Could be. That may intersect with economic theory, somehow."

"Enough," she yawned. "I'm still on my first cup of coffee. Too early for neuroscience, con games and economics."

"What's on your agenda, today?"

"Not much. Minor chores–dry cleaning, groceries."

"Hmm. How about we return to the sack and find something to do there?"

"I'm open to suggestions. Persuade me." Their physical relationship was new, still a novelty and high priority for both.

~.~.~.~

A while later, they relaxed in bed, enjoying the luxury of spending time together without other demands.

"Jane?"

"Hmm?"

"Did I mention about Erica Flynn?"

"Something new? Was she caught?"

"Friday. The law enforcement network canceled the BOLO on her."

"Was only a matter of time. Good."

"Good? Really?"

Jane turned on his side to look at her squarely, "Are we going there again?"

"What do you mean?"

"Erica Flynn has been a burr under your saddle since she helped with that case."

"You mean since you got her out of prison to help with the case and she escaped?"

He ran his hand through his hair, genuinely annoyed. Lisbon knew she had pushed it too far.

"Okay, Teresa. We either hash this out or drop it forever. Which?"

Lisbon pressed her lips together then said without attitude, "Jane, let's hash it out. I'll stop being snarky. I honestly want to know your take on her."

Mollified, he said, "Let's talk in the living room. I wouldn't mind more tea."

They dressed and relocated to the sofa. They sat comfortably alongside each other. He stroked her leg, which was draped over his.

"If we're going to play '20 questions,' let's agree on ground rules to avoid irritating each other," started Jane.

"What's '20 questions'?"

He smiled. "Angela and I did it all the time. It helps get each other's perspective on touchy subjects. Clears the air, resolves misunderstandings."

"How's it work?"

"Three ground rules are needed. First, honesty. Whomever is answering the question has to be absolutely straight with the truth. Second, no judging. The point is to find out what the other person was thinking–right or wrong–_not_ to win an argument or gain a weapon. Third, we alternate so each gets to ask and each has to answer. Nothing's off limits."

"Interesting. A little scary."

"And you claim_ I_ have trust issues. I trust you. And you?"

"All right. I trust you, too."

"You first. You're the one troubled by Erica Flynn. What's your question?"

"I don't understand why every man within sight was dying to do her bidding. And I want to understand your interactions with her on the two cases."

Jane raised his eyebrows, "That covers a lot of territory, but here goes. Erica Flynn is smart and extremely manipulative. I suspect she was sexually abused as a young teen. She realized sex could be a source of power, control. She's physically attractive. She leverages that by simultaneously being seductive and remote. Just enough promise to hook men but aloof enough to make them work hard to please her. And she's been honing those skills for decades. It's all calculated, deliberate, and dishonest."

Lisbon, frustrated. "There are equally attractive women who don't have anything like her power over men."

"Teresa, you knew Sam Bosco loved you. You could get him to do your bidding. Why didn't you?"

"It would be unethical. I wanted to work with him as an equal, not get my way, right or wrong."

"There's the difference. You're as attractive, or more-I'm biased here. But you have integrity. You choose not to use your beauty to manipulate men. Make sense?" She nodded.

"And your interactions on the cases?"

"You already know some. I was certain she killed her husband when I met her. It was a challenge to outwit her and prove it–worthy opponent, etc. Fun."

"And the second case?"

"I followed standard CBI protocol. I used an inmate's information and help to nail another criminal. I admit I'm annoyed. Your dislike of her makes you question my by-the-book decision to use her to help solve a case. Yes, of course I knew she would try to escape. I did not know her plan or help in any way. Wainwright took responsibility for her, and I let him. "

"Come on, Jane, you didn't sense she was planning something at the end?"

"I sensed she was planning something every moment she was out._ But it wasn't my responsibility._ You know, Lisbon, Wainwright took that on himself. If he had charged me with keeping her secure, I would have. I learned long ago saving a fool from his folly is a thankless task. Had I interfered Wainwright would have spouted some half-baked academic theory. She probably could have_ walked_ away while he was trying to convince me he was right."

"A little harsh on Wainwright."

"But accurate."

"Did she try to manipulate you, seduce you?"

"Of course. I rebuffed her when she tried to distract me from solving her husband's murder."

"And the second case?"

"Yes, she tried again. She kissed me–" He pressed his lips together and rubbed the back of his neck. "Yeah, I kissed her back. Then walked away." He paused, and added, "I could _feel_ Angela's disapproval. It would be aggressively stupid to let physical attraction trump my better judgment. Erica Flynn is a black widow. She isn't worthy of being in the same room as Angela. Or you." Jane leaned back to watch Lisbon's reaction, a tiny bit apprehensive.

Lisbon was silent a minute, digesting the information. She said in measured tones, "Thank you. I better understand, now. And I'm sorry I doubted your decision to use her on the case." Then, heatedly, "But I still dislike her and think men are fools to fall for her."

"I don't disagree." Jane relaxed and drank some of his tea.

~.~.~.~

"Your turn. What's your question?" asked Lisbon.

"This is a trifle, but I'm curious. When I hypnotized you to remember whether you killed that child rapist, you walked through your day. You mentioned that the mail room guy was 'hot.' What makes for 'hot' for women?"

She smiled. "Easy one. Of course, women vary in what they consider attractive. For most women, I think 'hot' would _have to_ include physically fit, fairly attractive features, self-confident, competent, and interested in women. A willingness to lead or take charge. Some style or flair helps, too. Simple, but that package goes a long way. You, of course, ace that list." She watched out of the corner of her eye to see how he would take the compliment.

Jane looked away, pleased and a little embarrassed at the over-the-top flattery. He was repeatedly surprised and delighted at how much more laid back and playful Lisbon was in private than she allowed herself to be at CBI. Her compliments were semi-teasing, but he enjoyed them nonetheless. It had been a long time since he had flirted with an intimate partner. He was beginning to realize how much he missed it.

"Ahhh–you're blushing! This is fun." More seriously, Lisbon added, "You _are_ very handsome and I appreciate that you don't trade on it. It's the same thing you said about me and Bosco. Of course, you get your way by other means, but that's a whole other discussion."

~.~.~.~

Switching gears, Lisbon asked, "Here's my next question. I'm sorry for what Red John did to Kristina Frye. You went out with her on a–one?-date. How did it unfold?"

"Hightower nudged me–more like she kicked me in the shins-to ask Kristina out. I was becoming interested in women again, and decided to give it a try. You know I'd been attracted to you for years–major understatement. But I couldn't take that anywhere till resolving Red John. Kristina was sharp, personable, pretty. Her belief she is a 'real' psychic was both intriguing and exasperating. Her life and work were both comfortably familiar and uncomfortably close to what I used to do. She laughed at my stories, never a bad thing for a guy." He shrugged. "Alas, I couldn't go through with it. It felt like I was enjoying myself at Angela's expense. Then Grace called about Marley Sparrow's murder, ending the date. You probably had a pretty good read on this already."

"It clarifies something. It tells me why you dated when I felt we already had a deeper relationship. I had to work at not being insecure and jealous. I had to accept we didn't have a commitment."

"Teresa, I couldn't date you _because_ of the deeper relationship. I couldn't offer you anything then. Dating without acknowledging what was really going on _would_ mess things up. I couldn't chance it."

"Jane, I've been attracted to you from early on. The first few days at CBI you were walking wounded. I'm sorry to be uncharitable, but you were mainly a distraction from the work. Then you got your footing. Remember those elements of 'hot'? You put self‑confident, competent, and take charge in place when you got Kim to confess and solved the Dellinger case. I realized you were the most attractive man I'd met in a long time."

"When I came to CBI I naturally noticed you were attractive, but nothing more. It was way too soon after Angela's death."

"I understand. It's been a journey for both of us. After Minelli hired you, you were on your best behavior for a few months and that went okay. Once you got used to CBI, we kept tripping over and annoying each other–you coming from a carny background, and me, trying to square how you operate with CBI rules. It was like trying to pick up mercury with a fork. I got tired of fixing the messes you created and your constant efforts to get around the rules. You four were competing, not working together. Frustrating till we finally settled into a constructive working relationship. I began to trust you to get results without destroying my career. You flirted a little then. The emerald necklace was over the top, fun. But it wasn't serious, right?"

"That's about how I saw it, too," Jane agreed.

"Then we got closer and you stopped flirting. It was becoming too important to take lightly. Saving my life certainly got my attention. I didn't know where it would end up. Frankly, I've been flat out in love for the last few years-since Hightower was framed. I knew it couldn't go anywhere until you resolved your hunt for Red John. You were worth waiting for."

Jane kissed her. "I wasn't ready then, but I realized I loved you when I killed Dumar-Sheriff Hardy. Teresa, I _badly_ wanted him to lead me to Red John. A little to my surprise, I found I wouldn't want to be left alive without you. I didn't hesitate to pull the trigger to save your life." He paused and asked, "Do you want to continue?"

She nodded. "This is putting a bunch of questions to rest. I feel better knowing what was going on from your perspective. We have _nine years_ between us and haven't been able to talk through much of anything till now." _Twenty questions will help preserve my peace of mind not to mention sanity in living with Jane. Must be how Angela managed._

_~.~.~.~_

"Mind if we have lunch? We could be at this a while."

"Sure. Let's continue talking over lunch."

Sitting down to left-overs, Jane resumed the conversation. "I think it's my turn to ask. Tell me about Greg. How did you end up engaged? Why didn't you marry him?"

"I met Greg in high school and we went together through college. Absolutely dependable, solid, and strong–honorable in every way. He treated me like royalty. I knew he would never be anything like my abusive father. I thought and still think he's a great guy. I broke off the engagement because he just wasn't right for me."

"Why?"

"Greg was more in love with me than I was with him. I could get him to do anything, put up with anything. I'd have to be a saint not to misuse that power over him. I figured I'd end up hating myself and not respecting him. Also, I wanted more than marriage and family. It scared him when I talked about becoming a cop. Either I'd give in and resent him. Or, he'd give in and resent me. Zero-sum game–either he lost or I lost."

"Regrets?"

"Not for breaking up with Greg. Until ten years ago, I thought career would be enough. I finally realized a job–any job-would provide only a fraction of what I needed on the personal side. In fact, your coming to CBI gradually showed me what I was missing. I'm looking forward to marriage and kids now that I'm with the right man."

"You figured all this out about Greg when you were what–20? 22? Everyone around you was telling you how you should grab this great guy, right? Pretty perceptive, wise and strong, my love."

"Are you patronizing me?"

"Now who can't accept an honest compliment? Teresa, when I was 20 Angela saved me from myself. She showed me that money, arm-candy women, and the adrenaline rush weren't enough. Trust me, I have no reason to be patronizing! ... Your turn."

~.~.~.~

"Tell me about Mashburn."

"Mashburn?! Shouldn't I be asking you that? What's your question?"

"What's your take on him?"

"He's sharp, entertaining. He wanted to write me off as your everyday psychic charlatan and it was enjoyable to change his mind. Umm, the fact that he's a billionaire opens a new dimension of amusement. It's always fun spending other people's money. So CBI provides him with a new experience-a thrill-as a murder suspect and he doesn't mind dropping a few hundred thou for a new car after I wrecked his car trapping the killer. What more is there to say?"

"You're incorrigible! What about him personally?

"He fights hard against it, but he's basically a nice guy. In a way, he succeeded so brilliantly he's made himself unhappy. What's left to do after earning billions by age 30?"

"Sound like anyone we know?"

"Fair enough. Mashburn and I share some traits. That's partly why he's entertaining. –Isn't there another question you're really asking?"

"Like what?"

"Like why I didn't mind him hitting on you?"

"Your question. Go ahead and answer it."

"I've said you should lighten up and have more fun. Mashburn and his expensive toys were a good bet to provide that. There either is a commitment or there isn't. I can't begrudge you some casual fun if I wasn't able to offer you anything then."

"Broad-minded of you."

"Not at all. I was confident there was enough between us that Mashburn wasn't a threat even with his toys and money. Why shouldn't the woman I love enjoy herself until we could take it to the next level?"

"He _was_ fun. And, you're right, our relationship wasn't in any danger from him. –Have I mentioned I love you?"

"It bears repeating," Jane said softly.

~.~.~.~

"Your turn again," Lisbon reminded him.

"So it is. Umm, Ray Haffner. What's the story, how do you see him?"

Lisbon shrugged. "Ray and I went out a few times before you came to CBI. I like him. Attractive guy, good agent. But there wasn't enough chemistry for a relationship–a little too unimaginative."

"What about his job offer a year ago? Why didn't you accept?"

"You know why. I _do_ like my job. But even more, there's no way I was leaving CBI until you and I got together or called it quits. Ray did a good job of messing with my head, though. He said you would catch Red John and leave, or just get bored and leave."

"Offering you a job certainly got _my_ attention. If you left CBI, a lot of my interest in being here would walk out with you."

"Jane, as much as I like Ray, it really threw me for a loop when I found out he's a member of Visualize. And he's the right age to have been at that farm 25 years ago where the first Red John murders occurred. It made me second guess everything. Were Ray's new security firm and job offer real? Or were they a ploy to separate us and undermine your efforts to catch Red John?"

"That thought occurred to me also. You could even go back to Bertram's decision to have me work with Haffner after I'd killed Timothy Carter. I couldn't pursue Red John nearly as effectively without you and the team. Minelli once said I was becoming a paranoid conspiracy freak. The Red John network certainly pushed me in that direction. I'm glad it turned out Ray isn't connected to Red John."

"Yeah, me too..."

~.~.~.~

"Next question. Jane, last year you nearly drowned and lost your memory, reverting to a time before you had your family. If it's not too upsetting, tell me about that. What age were you, what were you all about then? It was devastating to know you, to have so much history between us and yet realize you were a stranger without your memory."

Jane looked uneasy. Lisbon instantly reconsidered, wondering whether it was wise or even fair to ask him to recall such a traumatic event.

"I–I felt weirdly disconnected, like floating in the air, rootless. It was disturbing to reach for a memory and get nothing."

"Jane, stop. I'm sorry. This is a bad idea."

"No, it's okay," he replied thoughtfully, bemused by the remembered experience. "You came into the hospital room and asked what I remembered before the attack. I covered, deflected your question. I was relieved to find I could still function as a psychic. Later, finding the memory palace still worked was heartening. But it felt vulnerable for everyone to know about me when I didn't remember them–like being naked in a room of people who are clothed."

"You didn't let on. You said you instantly knew as much about us as before you lost your memory."

"Occupational hazard. Con artists never willingly reveal weakness. I took a crack at the crime fighting." He smiled ruefully. "It wasn't a good fit with being a con man."

"Yeah, I gathered."

"I kept disappointing you four. I simultaneously didn't care–I didn't remember you after all. But I also knew I _would_ care when I _did_ remember. Plus, you're a likeable group–being marks notwithstanding. It was like being tied to a rope anchored below the surface. Can't see what's there, but knowing there's more than is visible."

Lisbon flinched. _Too close to drowning imagery. This was a mistake._ "Thanks, that answers my question."

Caught up in trying to tease apart the experience, Jane rubbed his jaw and paid no mind. "You were the anchor. I didn't remember you, but felt balanced and safe talking to you. How old was I? Well, it was before I married Angela, so I had to be around 20."

"You seemed young. Brash. Callow, even."

"Was I ever! I had just come into my own as a con man and psychic. I didn't have money growing up and it was a rush to make big money, attract women, live large. I had my father's training to thank for my con artist skills. But who I was at 20 isn't someone I would respect or even like today."

"I was scared that if you left, you'd never find your way back. Aside from the threat of bad guys with a grudge."

"You were right. I did start to feel something. I was afraid and wanted to escape. But I felt safe enough with you to drive out to my house. Remembering Red John and the murders hurt. Once I remembered my family, the thought of not knowing them hurt worse. I had lost most of myself until I remembered."

"Jane, I'm sorry I asked that."

He got up, heated more water and made another pot of tea without replying. She stood next to him, rubbed his arm. "You okay?"

"Yeah. It's all right. It helps put it in perspective." He was quiet and distracted until he had his new cup of tea and a blueberry muffin. He led her into the living room. They sat, nestled together on the sofa. Jane settled down, relaxed again.

~.~.~.~

"Teresa, tell me about Sam Bosco. You knew he loved you, right?"

Upset at her thoughtlessness, she was glad to turn to a new topic. "At some level I knew Sam loved me. Was in love with me."

"You denied it, though. Even to yourself?"

"I did. It was important not to consciously 'know' because nothing good could come of it. Sam was more than just my boss at SF P.D. I was his protege. He taught me a lot and I liked and respected him. He also was a happily married man. He wasn't going to leave Mandy. If he did, it would have destroyed him."

"There's more. What else?"

"The fastest way a woman can undermine her career is to be tagged with sleeping her way up. I _was_ in love with him for a while at SF P.D., but never acted on it. It wasn't a good fit regardless of Mandy. He had 15 years on me. I hoped to have a family. He already had been there and done that."

"You realize some of the friction between Sam and me was over you?"

"Yeah, alpha male posturing."

"It's reality. Sam had a hard time accepting you'd moved on from your SF P.D. days. He knew you liked me but didn't think I was worthy of you."

"That's why you forced him to put you in jail over bugging his office? You wouldn't back down or apologize."

"Sam was the one being unreasonable. If a CBI agent had done the same thing, Sam would probably have thrown a few punches off the record and let it drop. Because it was me, he abused the law for his own purposes." Jane bristled anew at the memory. "Huh! I wasn't going to leave CBI because he wanted me to."

"'Abused' is a little strong, Jane. You shouldn't have done it."

"And Sam should have tried keeping me in the loop. I knew a lot that would have helped on the Red John case."

"There's no shortage of male ego and stubbornness to go around. What if I hadn't gotten him to drop the charges? You could have gone to prison, especially after escaping," she objected.

"I raised the stakes. Wanted to see what Sam would do. And I needed even more to know what you would do. If I misjudged you so badly that you let Sam put me in prison, you weren't the person I thought you were. That's part of trust, too."

She sat up on the sofa to face him. "Jane, with the escape charges, you could have gotten several years. That would be wildly lopsided with what you did. As a quasi-cop, you could have been hurt or killed in t here. There's no way I would let that happen if it were within my power to fix."

"Come here, partner," Jane said softly, pulling her back and giving her a kiss. "I never thought you'd go along with Sam. You do the right thing every time, even when you have to fight CBI rules. Or the law."

"In other words, you're corrupting me. Thanks." She said it with a smile, but there was an undercurrent of unease.

"Not corrupting. I think you're grappling with your oath to follow the law when it conflicts with what's right, with justice. I'll vote for justice every time. And, it seems, so do you. Teresa, just for the record, Sam and I ended up respecting each other, maybe even liking each other. For sure, we agreed on our love and high regard for you. I'm really sorry he was killed."

"I know. You end up in the right place, too."

~.~.~.~

"Your turn for a question," Jane reminded her.

"I–I don't think I have any more."

Jane tilted his head and looked at her curiously. "I think you have one more. If you don't, you should."

"What? Why?"

"Lorelei. You don't want to know?"

"I don't know that it's my business. She's dead, so what does it matter now?"

"Teresa, I'm going to tell you because you were hurt and I want you to know what happened. I owe you that. I don't want her to stand between us. -When Red John sent that little girl to ask if I gave up, that was valuable information. I knew something Red John wanted."

"So burning your Red John files and everything you said in my office was just a ploy?"

"Not everything. I _wasn't_ getting anywhere. It _was_ a game Red John kept winning. But he'd just given me the key to a new line of attack. The fact that he _cared_ if I gave up was the clue that led me to fake a breakdown."

With unexpected bitterness, Lisbon asked, "And you couldn't tell me about it? That last meeting with Wainwright was horrible–a train wreck in slow motion as you goaded him into firing you. It was agonizing when I thought you had a breakdown and I couldn't help you. You left town and I couldn't even _see_ if you were okay."

Quietly, "I know. I'm sorry. I didn't see any other way to do it, and no, I couldn't tell you. The CBI and FBI were infiltrated by Red John supporters. I _had_ to assume he had access to everything–computer systems, phone monitoring, Internet, mail, office bugging, home bugging, everything. Even if _you_ kept the secret perfectly, any contact would have given it away."

"So what happened?"

"I had to act exactly as I would if I were really having a breakdown. In conning someone as smart as Red John, you don't finish your shift, change clothes and go home to dinner. The gag only works by living it one-hundred percent. By the way, pretending to be depressed turns out to be damned depressing. I badly missed you and the CBI. I don't know if I could have stuck it out if I had reminders of what I was missing."

"Where did Lorelei come into the picture?"

"She served me drinks a few times in Vegas. Six months after I left CBI, she came to the bar I was hanging out at and started a conversation. That's when I assaulted Oscar to keep him from breaking my arms and legs over a fake psychic reading, and then got arrested. Someone put up my bail. I thought it was you. Lorelei turned up at my motel door the next day with soup. She had put up the bail. She stayed and we talked. We had sex. _That was the only time_. The next morning she told me Red John had posted my bail and had given me the night with her. That's how he opened the conversation, the overture to make me his disciple."

"Oh." Lisbon frowned. Then, appalled and repulsed as she realized the import, "Jane, that's–that's abuse. The first person since your wife–_Red John's mistress, there at his direction?!_"

He swallowed and looked away. "Yes. Lorelei wasn't a carrot to advertise the new life he offered. If you want to break someone, turn someone, first destroy their self‑respect. It was an attack."

"Jane, I'm sorry." With a sinking feeling she realized how far off she had been. _Intimacy with Lorelei wasn't born of Jane's loneliness and desire. -It was a particularly nasty attack when he was vulnerable._

"Teresa, at one level, it didn't matter. As part of the con, I _had_ to act exactly as I did. If I were down and out and an attractive woman offered sex, I would take her up on it. Six months, Teresa. You have no idea how relieved I was when Red John finally made a move. I drove back to Sacramento and followed you to the church. It was wonderful seeing you. I knew you wouldn't be happy that I'd kept it from you."

She forced herself back to the conversation. "I'd like to argue it was unnecessary. But Red John discovered the operation through the FBI, so I see your point. I still don't like it."

"Nor do I. You know the rest. I didn't know Lorelei would use it against you in interrogation. The attack wasn't just against me. I'm sorry it hurt you."

"And I _was_ jealous, reacting like a naive school girl," Lisbon admitted–to him and to herself,-ashamed.

"You reacted normally. It was an effective attack," Jane corrected. He turned his face away. "Your instincts were good. However much I wanted to deny the physical aspect, sex with Lorelei had an impact, did influence how I felt. It also gave me the chance to turn her."

"You had to bear this becoming public knowledge–first in interrogation, and then at the custody hearing."

"I didn't welcome it being public, but that's how it played out. What was important was the wedge it drove between us."

"Your determination to turn her? Your fixation on getting her back after the FBI put her in Federal prison? That was a way of changing that–that attack to your advantage?"

"All conflict is attack, parry and counter-attack. Lorelei was a way to get Red John's name."

"And after you engineered her escape?"

"I tried to convince her to give up Red John. I felt sorry he had killed her sister to make Lorelei a victim and his mistress. She was steadfast in her belief in Red John. If having sex with her would have gotten me his name, I would have done it. It wasn't the key and we didn't. At the cabin I told her she had to find out the truth for herself. There was no point in my continuing to accompany her. And I needed to convince everyone I had been abducted or I would end up in prison."

"I _am_ still upset with you over that. Jane, you could have died or been paralyzed from crashing the car."

He shrugged. "Didn't happen. And no one realized I was complicit in the prison break except you."

"You had feelings for her? Even though you knew Red John had used her against you?"

Jane closed his eyes and sighed, weary in every fiber. "Yes. Some. Not love. She was attractive. I liked her from Las Vegas. Remember, I didn't know she was Red John's girl at first. Even after I knew, I felt sorry for her–her life, her sister's murder, her being the mistress of her sister's killer. In another universe, another lifetime I could imagine being involved with her."

"She had done terrible things when she was with Red John. How did you get your head around that?"

"I didn't think about what she did when she was with Red John. And I thought she would find out directly that Red John had killed Miranda. It didn't occur to me she would go after his foot soldiers. I was shocked at her savage attack on Julia Howard. It–it was all mixed up, all hyped by strong emotions from every angle. The fact that she could give me Red John's name was nearly irresistible. And she was hunting Miranda's killer. Exactly what I was doing for my family."

"How could you trust the mistress of a serial killer? Jane!"

"You said she was playing me." Bitterly, "After I proved Red John had killed Miranda, she wouldn't tell me his name. She went out of her way to shoot Jason Lennon, who could have told me. You were right. I didn't see it–didn't _want_ to see it because she was my best chance of getting to Red John." He took a deep breath and exhaled. "Now you know everything. I can only hope this isn't a permanent rift between us."

"It hurt when Lorelei said you were lovers. It hurt worse when I was afraid Lorelei came before our partnership. And she was Red John's mistress. Jane! Letting your guard down was crazy dangerous if you had misread her! Lorelei was a killer in her own right. That was a line I couldn't cross, couldn't let you cross and still work with you."

"Are we okay?"

"We've gotten through all this. Lorelei and Red John are dead. Why throw away what we have, now that there's a future together for the taking? No more regrets, Jane."

They sat together on the sofa, mulling over years of partly-understood shared history.


End file.
